Duality
by Spark Vallen
Summary: Bruce and Batman struggle with their individual agendas and designs on life. (Rating for language mostly at this point in the story.)
1. Musings from Old Gotham Cathedral

Solid as any of the stone gargoyles that watched over the city beside him, Batman crouched, unmoving, atop the Old Gotham Cathedral. He hadn't moved so much as a muscle in over an hour. A light snow had begun to fall, coating his dark Kevlar costume with a fine dusting of white. He and the gargoyles watched Gotham City in silence.  
  
It had been a quiet December night. Without needing to consult the watch he'd built into his gauntlet, Batman knew it was nearly 2 a.m. If the city was going to become active, it would be in the next minutes as the bar's let out their patrons for the evening. Alcohol-induced egos and tempers would be flaring as the prospects were denied, as people realized they'd drank away their paycheck... again.   
  
He watched, waiting.  
  
Batman drew inward for a moment.   
  
"Bruce needs to break off his relationship with Elizabeth", he thought.   
  
She was getting too close... they were becoming too comfortable, too intimate. Elizabeth was far too understanding of Bruce's personality. Was she seeing the truth? Bruce wouldn't like that much. He was very fond of Elizabeth. She was one of the few who he felt like he trusted and loved.   
  
"Sorry, Brucie. There's no room for love in your life."  
  
He continued to watch the city. Without so much as a flinch, Batman came to life, drawing himself to his full height. His ears twitched at the sound of activity toward the waterfront.   
  
"Bruce would rather be at home, intertwined in the sheets with Elizabeth," his mind mused. "The hell with Bruce."  
  
The grappling gun was already in his right hand as he vaulted off the roof of the Cathedral. The cable was away as he dropped toward the ground. Batman never considered the notion that his aim would miss... that the cable would hook would fail to snare concrete. Failure was not an option on this night, just as any other.  
  
His thoughts of Bruce Wayne's life fell away as Batman pursued the moment. With a flick of his wrist, the cable detached and he'd already flung a second out. His cape billowed behind him in the wind. Without the slightest hesitation, he moved his wrist - cable detached! - and Batman had already curled his body to front roll onto the five-story building before him. His keen blue eyes watched the rumbling crowd below on the street as they milled around the bar.  
  
Lights were beginning to snap on behind window shades as apartment tenants were waking up to the sound. He waited, watched. Three, two, one--  
  
"Hey, why don't y'all shut yer traps down there? There's decent people tryin' to sleep 'round here! Ya think ya damn drunks own the neighborhood?"  
  
There. Across the street - 4th floor window open and an 60-some year old man peered out at the crowd. Batman tensed and scanned the crowd.  
  
"Shut the hell up, old man!" came the reply. "You just go and climb back into your Craftmatic bed there and this'll all be a dream in the mornin!"  
  
There. Black leather jacket. Colors? Yes. Street Demonz. Still, Batman waited.  
  
"Go home and sleep off yer booze," the old man retorted. "Go home or I'm callin' the cops!"  
  
"The cops? Man, go screw yourself! Ain't no cops here gonna shut down my party!"  
  
He'd trained himself for moments such as these. Batman dove and was soaring down, feet first toward the Demonz the instant his right hand twitched for the comfort of his gun. He was prepared for the impact as he connected with the gang member and sent him sprawling into the concrete. Batman rolled with the impact and came up, standing.  
  
The crowd fell back with shouts of, "OH shit, it's Batman!" Without pause, they began to disperse.  
  
He waited, sparing only a momentary glance up at the apartment window of the old man. The window was closed and the shade had been pulled. Batman was grateful for small favors. The gang member moaned in pain and surprise, clutching his ribs.   
  
To the small remaining on-lookers, Batman barked, "Call for an ambulance."   
  
He leapt and fired a grappling hook simultaneously. Its reeling pulled the Dark Knight into the shadows of the night.  
  
Batman observed, waiting, until the ambulance arrived. "Bruce Wayne and his dreams of a normal life are but dreams," he muttered. 


	2. Daylight's Glare

Bruce smirked as he pulled his gleaming ruby red Jaguar into the parking spot, killed the ignition and hopped out of the car, easily. "Batman won't like this one bit," he thought, smugly.  
  
He skirted a pair of slow moving elderly ladies shuffling through the slushy remains of the previous night's snow fall and ducked into the restaurant. The coat-check greeted Bruce on sight and took his jacket. The maitre'd nodded curtly to him and led him, without a word, to the private booth where Elizabeth was already seated.  
  
"The night life is mine," he mused. "The hell with what Batman wants. IF I created him, I can undo his life as well."  
  
Her expression was less enthusiastic than he was anticipating. She glanced down at her wrist watch, then gave him a sour gaze. "Bruce... nice of you to finally join me for lunch."  
  
Bruce sat down quickly and waved off the maitre'd. "Elizabeth, sorry I'm late. Business."  
  
She arched an eyebrow. "I wondered when this would happen."  
  
"Beg your pardon?"  
  
"Please, Bruce. I had had dreams of not being a -- a statistic, but now I see that's not going to be the case."   
  
Baffled, he leaned back into the cushy booth seat and stared across the table at Elizabeth. He reached down to pat his suit coat pocket, where he'd been keeping the engagement ring close at hand.  
  
"Statistic?"  
  
She sipped her glass of wine. "Just what I'd heard would happen at this moment. The mighty Bruce Wayne feigns innocence and resumes his 'clueless' routine." Elizabeth sighed. "And here, foolish me had thought things were going to be different with you and me."  
  
Bruce stared, thinking fast. When had problems cropped up? Where had he been?  
  
"Elizabeth, I'm not sure I understand. But I really want to work things out with you, if you feel there's a problem," he said.  
  
"If I feel there's a problem?" She kept her voice low, but there was no mistaking the hard edge it had taken. "Dammit, Bruce, are you saying you don't FEEL it's a problem if you've stood me up on date after date? You don't FEEL it's a problem that when we've actually been together... I find you've slipped out of my bed in the middle of the night? You don't feel there's any problem there?"  
  
He kept his facial expression impassive, but Bruce's stomach lurched. "No... not again," he thought. "Please don't let me lose another to him..."   
  
Bruce fingered the small box in his suit coat pocket. "E-- Elizabeth, I--" His voice trailed off as his voice faltered.   
  
"What? There's nothing you can say, Bruce?" Elizabeth's frown deepened. "Your silence speaks volumes, you know. Volumes. I've been such a fool."  
  
"Elizabeth, I--"  
  
"Let me guess. Another woman? The newest model to town catch your eye?"  
  
"No! I-- I'm... I, uh..."   
  
It had all seemed so simple on the drive over. He was going to propose. Bruce had purchased the ring two weeks earlier and had finally decided to pop the question. It had seemed so simple. Bruce sighed internally.   
  
She nodded, sarcastically. "Bruce... I've tried hard to be patient with you, to be understanding. I know you're a busy man with the company and all. I've tried hard to keep an open mind, despite all the rumors I've heard of your dating pattern. I really have. But..." Elizabeth paused, gathering her thoughts. "But now, I see I was the stupid one for being optimistic. And now, you can't even say anything? That's it. Good bye, Bruce."  
  
He stared at the empty half of the booth where Elizabeth had just sat. "It was him... the damned Bat," Bruce thought. "Controlling my days and my nights..." 


	3. Storms with in, with out

Forgot before... but y'all know I don't own Batman or Bruce (though that'd be nice!) and they belong to DC Comics and Warner Bros... or whoever else has a patent these days. :) Oh, and I'm writing this spontaneously - I wait until a scene pops into my head to write... then I go full-steam ahead! So we just have to wait for my muses to speak to me. lol  
  
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Duality, Chapter Three  
"Master Bruce?" Alfred peered somewhat timidly into the barely lit study of his friend and employer, Bruce Wayne. He'd known that Bruce was planning to meet with Elizabeth for dinner. They'd discussed his plans to ask her for her hand in marriage. Alfred had earlier expressed his surprise and delight at Bruce's plan. Seeing that he was sitting alone in the gloom of his study concerned the manswervant, however. The curtains had been left open, so the thunderstorm was easily viewed through the ten foot high windows.  
  
Bruce didn't respond, which did not surprise Alfred. The fine line between the man and the bat was often hard to distinguish. Undeterred, Alfred stepped into the room, his polished shoes crossing effortless across the varying hardwood teak floor and the thick Persian rugs. He stopped inches from the back of the tall Victorian chair and repeated Bruce's name.  
  
"Go away."  
  
Alfred paused at the thickness of emotion in those two words Bruce uttered. It had definitely not gone well with Miss Elizabeth, he realized.  
  
"Bruce, is something wrong?"   
  
No verbal response, but Alfred could see Bruce's shoulders slump. He held his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees.  
  
"What happened? I can scarcely believe Miss Elizabeth would have turned down your proposal of marriage," Alfred said cautiously. "You two have been so close."  
  
His words incited a fire in Bruce. He lurched from the chair and wildly spun on his heel, lashing his arms out around him. "I never even got the chance!" he screamed in rage and frustration. It was then that lightning arced across the sky, brightening the room enough for Alfred to see tears streaming down Bruce's cheeks. "I never had the chance!"  
  
Alfred chose his words carefully, understanding that something had indeed gone horribly wrong with their relationship. Bruce had chosen to maintain a playboy's image for this life, to distract suspicion of Batman's identity. As a result, he'd dated but had never been emotionally close with any woman he'd been seen with. After a moment, Alfred said, "Miss Elizabeth and you have... separated?"  
  
"She left me!" he shouted, turning his back and stalking toward the windows. He placed his hands on either side of the glass and stared out at the storm. "She left me because of the damned bat! It was him! His fault!"  
  
The manservant made his way over to Bruce and stood at his side. "You told her the truth?"  
  
"NO!"  
  
Alfred frowned. "Then what happened, sir?"  
  
"It's... it's this life..." he sobbed, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Because... because of the bat, I was unattentive. She -- Elizabeth thought... thought that I was neglecting her on purpose. Like... like the other women... for my cover. I -- I tried to explain but it was too late. I..."  
  
"Did you end up late to dinner with her?" Alfred asked.  
  
Bruce looked over his shoulder at his closest friend and confidant. "Yes. By accident, yes."  
  
"And it was that straw that broke the proverbial camel's back."  
  
He nodded and clumsily wiped tears off his cheeks with the back of his hand.   
  
It was such a contrast of personalities, Alfred thought. The difference between Bruce and his Batman. Batman wouldn't have let Elizabeth lead the conversation for a moment. He would've forced her to hear him out. He would have made her stay, made her see the ring. Batman would be the type to make Elizabeth understand. But not Bruce. Beyond the bat, beyond his foppish image... at his core, Bruce was still the scared little boy, trying to control his world, Alfred understood. He was insecure beyond measure and took rejection head on rather than fighting.   
  
"It's his fault..." Bruce muttered again, now turning away from the window. "He ruined the relationship."  
  
Alfred regarded him quietly, watching Bruce begin to pull himself together. He then asked, "Where are you going, sir? To Elizabeth's to win her back?"  
  
He shook his head vehemently. "No... I -- it's too late. I can't now and--"  
  
"The city needs you," Alfred said simultaneously as Bruce added, "The city needs me." 


End file.
